In the moonlight
I drift up and down,
I see dead limbs
And a still grave.

In the ghostly breeze
Something floats by,
Like flame and smoke,
It whispers past.

From the deceptive mists
Climbs a figure,
Without sin or falsehood,
And it drifts by.

Those eyes so blue,
That gaze so great,
As in heaven's fields,
As in God's lap!

A white gown
Covers the form;
From its tender hand
springs a lily.

In a ghostly whisper
She speaks to me:
"I wander already
in the pure light.

I see the moon and the sun
at my feet,
And I live in bliss,
With the kisses of angels;

And all the joy
that I feel,
your heart cannot know,
child of Mankind!

...Unless you let go
of this earthly god
before you are seized
by terrible Death."

So the air resounds,
So the wind whistles,
To the stars calls
the child of heaven.

And before she flees,
Her white figure
in fresh flowers
she enfolds.

In pure flames
she floats up,
Without pain or injury,
To the angel's choir.

Night covers
the holy place;
Inspired by God
I sing the Word.